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Time's Laughingstocks, and Other Verses
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Moving at the pane;
Ah; ’tis but her phantom
Borne within my brain! —
Foremost in my vision
Everywhere goes she;
Change dissolves the landscapes,
She abides with me.
Shape so sweet and shy, Dear,
Who can say thee nay?
Never once do I, Dear,
Wish thy ghost away.
THE END OF THE EPISODE
Indulge no more may we
In this sweet-bitter pastime:
The love-light shines the last time
Between you, Dear, and me.
There shall remain no trace
Of what so closely tied us,
And blank as ere love eyed us
Will be our meeting-place.
The flowers and thymy air,
Will they now miss our coming?
The dumbles thin their humming
To find we haunt not there?
Though fervent was our vow,
Though ruddily ran our pleasure,
Bliss has fulfilled its measure,
And sees its sentence now.
Ache deep; but make no moans:
Smile out; but stilly suffer:
The paths of love are rougher
Than thoroughfares of stones.
THE SIGH
Little head against my shoulder,
Shy at first, then somewhat bolder,
And up-eyed;
Till she, with a timid quaver,
Yielded to the kiss I gave her;
But, she sighed.
That there mingled with her feeling
Some sad thought she was concealing
It implied.
– Not that she had ceased to love me,
None on earth she set above me;
But she sighed.
She could not disguise a passion,
Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion
If she tried:
Nothing seemed to hold us sundered,
Hearts were victors; so I wondered
Why she sighed.
Afterwards I knew her throughly,
And she loved me staunchly, truly,
Till she died;
But she never made confession
Why, at that first sweet concession,
She had sighed.
It was in our May, remember;
And though now I near November,
And abide
Till my appointed change, unfretting,
Sometimes I sit half regretting
That she sighed.
“IN THE NIGHT SHE CAME”
I told her when I left one day
That whatsoever weight of care
Might strain our love, Time’s mere assault
Would work no changes there.
And in the night she came to me,
Toothless, and wan, and old,
With leaden concaves round her eyes,
And wrinkles manifold.
I tremblingly exclaimed to her,
“O wherefore do you ghost me thus!
I have said that dull defacing Time
Will bring no dreads to us.”
“And is that true of you?” she cried
In voice of troubled tune.
I faltered: “Well.. I did not think
You would test me quite so soon!”
She vanished with a curious smile,
Which told me, plainlier than by word,
Ah; ’tis but her phantom
Borne within my brain! —
Foremost in my vision
Everywhere goes she;
Change dissolves the landscapes,
She abides with me.
Shape so sweet and shy, Dear,
Who can say thee nay?
Never once do I, Dear,
Wish thy ghost away.
THE END OF THE EPISODE
Indulge no more may we
In this sweet-bitter pastime:
The love-light shines the last time
Between you, Dear, and me.
There shall remain no trace
Of what so closely tied us,
And blank as ere love eyed us
Will be our meeting-place.
The flowers and thymy air,
Will they now miss our coming?
The dumbles thin their humming
To find we haunt not there?
Though fervent was our vow,
Though ruddily ran our pleasure,
Bliss has fulfilled its measure,
And sees its sentence now.
Ache deep; but make no moans:
Smile out; but stilly suffer:
The paths of love are rougher
Than thoroughfares of stones.
THE SIGH
Little head against my shoulder,
Shy at first, then somewhat bolder,
And up-eyed;
Till she, with a timid quaver,
Yielded to the kiss I gave her;
But, she sighed.
That there mingled with her feeling
Some sad thought she was concealing
It implied.
– Not that she had ceased to love me,
None on earth she set above me;
But she sighed.
She could not disguise a passion,
Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion
If she tried:
Nothing seemed to hold us sundered,
Hearts were victors; so I wondered
Why she sighed.
Afterwards I knew her throughly,
And she loved me staunchly, truly,
Till she died;
But she never made confession
Why, at that first sweet concession,
She had sighed.
It was in our May, remember;
And though now I near November,
And abide
Till my appointed change, unfretting,
Sometimes I sit half regretting
That she sighed.
“IN THE NIGHT SHE CAME”
I told her when I left one day
That whatsoever weight of care
Might strain our love, Time’s mere assault
Would work no changes there.
And in the night she came to me,
Toothless, and wan, and old,
With leaden concaves round her eyes,
And wrinkles manifold.
I tremblingly exclaimed to her,
“O wherefore do you ghost me thus!
I have said that dull defacing Time
Will bring no dreads to us.”
“And is that true of you?” she cried
In voice of troubled tune.
I faltered: “Well.. I did not think
You would test me quite so soon!”
She vanished with a curious smile,
Which told me, plainlier than by word,
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